


Bride of Quiet

by KillTheDirector



Series: Come The Avarice [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/M, Female Will Graham
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 07:04:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4338608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KillTheDirector/pseuds/KillTheDirector
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She can smell the rain over the scent of the ocean, and when she stares out her kitchen window to the quickly darkening sky, a sense of foreboding washes over her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bride of Quiet

_"Were the two of you ever intimate, Special Agent Graham?"_

She sips at the bitter coffee and feels the cold press of her dogs' noses against her bare legs. The Florida air is thick, and the crackle of an on coming storm causes her thick hair to stand on end; she can smell the rain over the scent of the ocean, and when she stares out her kitchen window to the quickly darkening sky, a sense of foreboding washes over her. 

_"I don't understand why my personal affairs are any of the court's business."_

_"Being intimate with the defendant can effect your...'professional' opinion of him. Now I'll ask again Agent Graham, were the two of you ever intimate?"_

The rain begins with an echoing crack of thunder that causes the entire house to shake. Will wonders in a haze if there's any chance of a hurricane, but when she glances at her dogs who have all flopped on the floor, she has no need to worry. The coffee tastes like tar on her tongue, but she continues to sip at the rapidly cooling liquid in an attempt to quell down the headache that's growing behind her eyes. 

_"...yes."_

The corner store has the tools needed to finish fixing her neighbor's boat, not to mention the booze is inexpensive. Will feels the stares from the locals, and the large scars that run across her cheek burns like the day she received them. She looks down and is counting her money when she hears the announcement on the television that's hanging right above her. 

The news anchor is pretty and blonde, her expression a perfect mixture of worried and professional; the dark navy of her jacket and skirt matches her bright blue eyes perfectly, and if Will looks hard enough, she can feel the woman's professionalism wash over her like a warm shower. " **Serial killer Hannibal Lecter, aka The Chesapeake Ripper, is still at large. Lecter broke out of confinement last night after guards responded to a distress call from their fellow officer. Agent Jack Crawford of the FBI has urged those who may know of Lecter's where abouts to contact--** " 

Will tunes the woman's voice out and slides the money on the counter. She grabs her bags and steps out into another storm. 

_"You realize, Agent Graham, that your expert opinion is in question because of this new information?"_

_"...I do."_

_"Your honor, I would like to request that Agent Graham be removed from the witness list."_

The next few days are a see-saw of emotions. Will wakes up from night terrors, the phantom of a knife plunging into her gut, cutting her open like a fish while Dolarhyde and Hobbs whisper into her ear "See? See?" 

She gets up and cleans her home obsessively, scrubbing sand from between the boards as her dogs play out in the ocean. Her fingers begin to crack and bleed, and the smell of bleach clings to the inside of her nose as she lays on the wooden floor. 

Will doesn't know how long she lays on the ground, but the howling of her dogs pull her out of whatever dream-like state she managed to put her in. The sound of tires crunching over sand coated gravel have her sitting up and grasping for the spray bottle still full of bleach. Her heart thuds lowly in her chest, and every scar that crosses over her body burns with remembered pain; she stands and makes it to the door before the woman on the other side can knock. 

They stare at each other for a moment, and Will lowers the spray bottle. Her dogs paw lightly at the screen door, and she opens it so they can pile inside; the woman darts her eyes down to the bottle, but takes a step back and rests her weight on one foot. "May I come in?" The woman's voice is threaded with a thick West Virginian accent, and is pretty in a practical way. Will's eyes scan over her quickly and nods to herself when she sees the outline of a handgun under the woman's light jacket. 

Will moves away from the door and allows the FBI agent (because who else would she be?) into her home. She notes the sand that clings to the agent's low heels, and can feel the grains under her fingernails. The woman turns and holds out a hand, her eyes on Will's face and not on the scar. "It's a pleasure meeting you, Special Agent Graham." Will sets the spray bottle down on the coffee table and lightly grasps the woman's hand. 

"I'm retired." She replies, her voice crackling after not speaking for days. Her throat is still sore from screaming the night before, but she ignores the gritty feeling and instead raises a brow. "You're...Agent Starling, am I right? The one who caught..." She crinkles her nose in distaste at the title the press had given the murderer. "Buffalo Bill." 

Starling clears her throat, either pleased that Will had known who she was or in embarrassment of the recognition. Will makes sure not to meet the woman's eyes, and turns towards the kitchen. "Would you like a drink?" She's already grabbing the half empty bottle of whiskey and two glasses when Starling gives the affirmative and settles on one of Will's scratched bar stools. 

Setting the drink in front of the young woman, Will levels her with a look, her fingers toying with the glass. "...he's not here." Starling purses her mouth and meets Will's gaze; she's hit with a flurry of emotions, the most prevalent being annoyance. She sees herself through the woman's eyes: someone whom she had admired, brought low by her failures and reduced to drinking herself into an early grave. Will's hands grip the countertop when Starling looks away. 

"I didn't think he would be." She bites out, reaching down and petting one of Will's dogs. "Agent Crawford sent me to check up on you since apparently he can't do it himself." 

Will lets out a breathy laugh and drowns her glass of whiskey in one go. "Jack's a busy man." She hums, rolling a shoulder in a shrug; her syllables are rounded in the familiar accent of the South, having been around Florida for a couple of years and now Agent Starling's own words pulling Louisiana tight around Will's grammar. "He could've called." 

Starling smiles slightly, and it doesn't look forced though Will knows it is. _She's gonna make it far._ Will thinks, and realizes that she likes her. 

"Would you have picked up?" 

_She visits only once, and that's when they're moving him to the Baltimore Mental Institution._

_They have him in a muzzle, something that she finds fitting even though they're not putting him down like a rabid dog. He stares at her from behind the bullet proof glass as if she's an interesting fish in an aquarium; Will meets his gaze head on and feels her stomach lurch at the twisted sense of love she feels._

_He doesn't speak and neither does she, and when her hour is up, Will leaves._

The bar has low lighting, so maybe that's why the boy with the pretty smile and beach blond hair asks if he can take her home. 

With practiced ease, Will holds her leg out to stop the dogs as they try to run past her; he stares when the light is turned on and softly traces the scar that bisects her bottom lip. Will remembers in the back of her drunken mind that he mentioned going to school to become a doctor or a lawyer (she really can't remember), and wonders how old this kid really is. His thumb runs over her scarred cheek and he wraps his fingers through her curls before they kiss. 

_They only had sex once._

_It was after she realized what he was,_ who _he was. She had gone so far into the rabbit hole that even through all the planning she and Jack had done, Will felt the mask melding with her skin._

_He helped her pick out a dress for one of his dinner parties, his knuckles barely running over the ridges of her spine as he zipped up the back. The dress was blood red, like the slash of her mouth as she stared at them in the mirror; his own lips were turned up only slightly at the corners, and with him standing behind her, Will realized they made an attractive couple._

_The party was lavish, as she expected, and their hands brushed far too many times for it to be considered accidental. He watched her closely as she ate someone's liver._

August is when he finds her. 

Will pulls up to the house and notices that all her dogs are laying on the porch; they greet her, making sure not to jostle her too much as she leans down, one arm hoisting her groceries and the other gripping the pistol she had stowed beneath the steps. 

The screen door is askew, and from the house pours a lilting aria. Will cocks her gun and points it right at his head, watching as the corners of his mouth tilt up while his eyes remain closed. "Hello, Will."

**Author's Note:**

> Whoop more female!Will :/


End file.
